


Turtles 2

by sunflower1343



Series: Turtles [2]
Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Psychological issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2014-09-25
Packaged: 2018-02-18 13:10:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2349557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflower1343/pseuds/sunflower1343
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Asami has a trigger.  Takaba inadvertently trips it and pays the price.  This is Asami's POV of the fic Turtles. It's generally not what people expect. It's me wondering: what if the face he always showed wasn't just a cool reserved guy, but a protection built up by years of trauma?  And what if someone who was getting close to breaching his barriers accidently cracked that protection?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Asami's POV

**Author's Note:**

> Both Akihito and we know very little about Asami. Much of his character is speculation, interpretation, and fanon. In Turtles, Akihito assumed he knew what Asami was thinking. Turns out he was an unreliable narrator. And Asami is one too.
> 
> This fic follows the same format as Turtles. The first chapters mirror each other. The codas only do when Asami and Akihito are together. Written July 2005.
> 
> ~~~~~~~~~~  
> 

He's so nervous. It's delicious. Look at all the emotions running across his face. I wonder what it's like to be like that. I knew once, a long time ago. But that's in the past and I don't think about it anymore. He'll be strong too, my Takaba, once he grows up and forgets about emotions. But he won't be as pretty, not without the tears and the hate and his caring for so many. He probably thinks he cares for me too, but doesn't want to admit that one. Why else would he make me tea? 

The day must have made me more tired than I thought if his bed is reminding me of sleep more than sex. I should get the sex over with so I can go home and rest. So I stand and walk to the bed, where he sits, strangely compliant. This isn't like him. What is he up to? He's looking closely at me as I stagger. Fuck, he drugged me, didn't he? I can't stand. I hit the bed. I try to grab him.... arms aren't working.... The little bastard.... On the bed..... Can't believe.... Trapped me..... Can't.... stay..... awake.....

 

\--

 

I'm cuffed to the bed. Arms and legs. I jerk at them, trying to break loose. I can't even move. My heart is pounding. What's happening? I can't think. Was I drugged? Who? _Takaba._ I remember. I yell at him to let me loose. How could Takaba do this? He would never do something like this. But he did. He's kind though. He won't hurt me will he? No, don't go there. Never go there. I can still control him. There's nothing to fear. But I can't breath. I won't gasp in front of him. Is it the drugs? What's he doing? _Fear._ No. Don't let it through. Don't let them see. Be cold. Be ice. Freeze it. Shut it out, back it down, keep it in, push it deep, stay on top. _I can't._ I'm out of practice. It's finding holes. It's leaking through. I can't control it. I can't breath. I gasp. _Trapped._ I jerk the cuffs. I need to be free. I have to be free _now_. This can't be happening again. _I need out._ I twist my arms, I pull, I cut, I bleed, I don’t care. There's blood on my arms. The pain doesn't matter. _Breathe._

I suddenly remember the drill. I take deep breaths. Takaba's saying something. I don't understand. He's touching me, trying to soothe me. Just like the others would do, right before... don't think don't think don’t think. _Think of Takaba. How to use Takaba. You can play him, you always do._ I can, can't I? _Yes, you always know how to make him act, how to play on his vulnerabilities._ I calm down, not so frantic. Yes, I've done this before. I can control him.

I whisper sweet words, promises of pleasures he's never experience. I cajole and tease, watching his eyes for any break in his will. He's talking, telling me he just wants some harmless sex. It's always harmless sex. Just of little of this, a lick here, a thrust there, a ripping, a tearing, and then we're through. _Just lay still and be a good boy. See, no harm done._ Harmless. 

Takaba. Silvery brown hair, warm eyes. This is Takaba. Takaba is still talking, saying he expects punishment. I howl with laughter inside, not letting any slip out. He has no idea what that means. A sexual bout with film and toys? Punishment? That's fun. That's play. That's not Punishment. I know what the Punishment is. But Takaba doesn't need to know. Not now. Not ever. I'll never do that to anyone. No, and especially not Takaba. Though I'll plan something special. Something _he_ will think of as punishment.

But I still have to get free first. I promise him the sexual fantasy he wants, if he lets me loose. He doesn't believe me. That stings. I meant it. I would still play with him later, but I'd give him his money's worth first. I'm good at that. But no, he thinks I'm lying. He holds me but he doesn't see _me_. He holds some dream. He never saw _me_. He never wanted _me_. He wants his dream. How predictable. I tell him he'll never get what he wants from me, and he cries.

He cries, over such a thing. He always cries. Tears were burned out of me a long time ago. My whole supply was used up by the time I was four. I've never cried since. Not once. I couldn't if I wanted to, because the need left with the supply of tears. But he has an endless supply. His tears fascinate me. I wonder what it would be like to cry again. He sees me stare at them and brings one on a finger to my lips. It tastes sweet, and I tell him so. He moves his face closer and I lick them clean, thinking that they might fill my eyes so I might know once again what it is to cry.

He's sitting back and looking at me. I know this look. He wants to touch me and play with me. It's happened so many times. Not with Takaba. I never expected it with Takaba. But with all the others who held me down. I don't mind this so much, not with him. He's my lover. He touches me and plays. 

My lover. What does that mean? Not love. There's no love between us. He thinks the worst of me. He always tells me I let him down. He doesn't know that the worst can be so much more awful than anything I've done.

He puts ice cream on my chest, over my heart. What is that, symbolic? I guess it's true. I have a heart. I can feel it beating. But I can't feel anything else with it. Whenever it tries to feel anything else I have to stop it, or it all comes back. All the emotion, all the pain, the hate and the love, the betrayal. I remember love. I loved my parents, once. I trusted them, once. I loved my bear, my brown stuffed bear, though. He never let me down, probably because he wasn't alive. Akihito's hair reminds me of my bear.

He's licking my body, touching me, as if it meant something. If it really did then why would I feel so empty? He dumps more goo over me, chocolate and caramel. I've never liked sweets. No, I did once. Before they started using them to get me to do things, or to shut me up. _Would you like a piece of cake Ryuichi? You can have one later if you're a good boy now._ I hate cake. I hate sweets. 

I look down and see Takaba licking my cock. It's such a beautiful sight. For a moment I forget I'm tied down. He knows just what to do. I trained him to please me after all. But the cuffs dig into my wrists and remind me too quickly what's happening. This isn't the first time this happened. The hair on the head below darkens, the eyes are black, dark lying father's eyes. I won't respond. I won't feel anything. I'm not enjoying this. Sick! That sick bastard! I wish I could kill him again!

The licking stops, black fades to sweet brown, Takaba below, snapping me back to here and now, but I still feel the fury. Why did he have to do it this way, binding and shackling me? Was the other way so bad? Was it bad? I didn't mean it to be. I have to be in charge, but he felt pleasure, I saw it. And he cried, so beautifully.... Wouldn't anyone be happy to cry such beautiful tears? If only I could. I don't understand why he wouldn't be happy with it. 

Takaba gets a shoe from his closet. Is he going to make me lick it? No, the shoelace. I see. He's sitting on me, tying me below. The sight is freezing me inside. Now it begins. What he really wants. He wanted power all along. He's like the rest. Just like them. He smears a thick white cream over me, only it's cold this time, not hot from their bodies as usual. His tongue in it looks like a maggot in cheese. I close my eyes and hear him fumbling for something more. I don't want to look, but I won't show any fear. He sticks a piece of nut in my cock. It's not what I expected. I almost laugh. It looks like a fucking four star restaurant's dessert. He's licking the head around the nut, watching me. It's making me hot, seeing him do that, but his eyes become other eyes again, the black eyes, and the pecan becomes a painful piece of plastic. Hatred rips through me. 

No. NoNoNONONO I worked so long so hard pushing it under, keeping it away, it can't come out now, not now not here, it's the past it's wrong it's weak it's my fault, my fault! No one does this to other boys. It's only me, daddy's boy. I hate him, I hate his touch his mouth his lips, those lips, there they are, thick and white, covered in shame, covered in my shame, lure them in, just like last time, bring him close, pull him in, there's his throat, daddy's throat, just a little more, a little closer, come closer, yes that's it, almost there, just like last time, he didn't learn, such a fool, another inch, he sees! Dammit he sees, I spring but my teeth snap short. Fuck! 

But now he's scared. Now he's remembering the last time. He's remembering how it felt to have my teeth rip out his throat. He knows he's going to die as soon as I get loose. He wants to know if he gets nothing in return. Yes. I hiss it. He knows what he already got. He got it over and over for seven years. For seven fucking years, he and his friends got everything, got it all, and he wants more. Never again, nothing more. 

He's talking now, talking, about the time I raped him. But... What....? I never raped him. I wish I could have, but I never did. I killed him too soon. He's going on about how bad he felt. I don't remember this but I'm glad he felt bad. Now he's talking about Feilong. How does he know Feilong?! Wait. But this....Wait. He's telling me about the sex in the shower with.... him... Takaba?.... When did Takaba get here? Where's my father? Where did he go? He's dead. Of course he is. I killed him. But where's the blood? I don't understand.

Takaba's telling me how he thinks about me when he masturbates, how I'm the only one for him, that no others will do. Of course not. He knows who he belongs to. I want to ask about my father but I can't appear weak. I have to look cool, confident, like I have all the answers. But this makes no sense. I'm in control. I am. I worked for years at discipline. I refuse to let it shatter. I just need to control myself.

Now Takaba's talking about how he knows I care for him. If I could weep I'd weep for him. I can't care for anyone. I can't and stay sane. Why is he doing this to me? I've worked so hard at remaining beyond emotion. No one would be such a fool as to care for me.

He's telling me he loves me. No. Fuck no. Not that. Not love. I can't. Never again. He can't do this to me. It hurts. I can't breathe. 

He wants to make love to me. Oh Gods just once, just this once, it can't hurt if it's just this once. I'll leave and never look back. I can control it all again, if I just never see him again. He's touching me, loving me, I never thought I'd feel this again, this movement, this moving of my heart, oh why, why does it hurt so much? 

He releases me and I cum. I pour myself into him, everything that matters. I let myself empty. I push it all into him, all the feelings, the dreams, the desires. I'm left with a shell. I can start over. I can be still again, in control again. Emotionless again. He carries all of it for me.

He cleans my body. He releases me and sits there. I look at him one last time. I can never see him again. He can't exist, in heart or mind or body. What he holds is too dangerous. I wonder if I should tell him that he holds what there is of my tiny heart. But I can't. He can never know. My Akihito. Because I must, I erase him. I stand and dress and leave the apartment, wondering what I was doing there in the first place.

 

~end~

 

This fic can end here, or if you want Asami's story behind the coda in Takaba's version, you can read that ending chapter 2.


	2. Ending 2

He cleans my body. He releases me and sits there. I look at him one last time. I can never see him again. What he holds is too dangerous. I wonder if I should tell him that he holds what there is of my tiny heart. But I can't. He can never know. He's the only one with this power over me. I can't afford to lose control like this. I can't afford Akihito. I clamp down on pain I should never be feeling. I stand and dress and walk out the door, never looking back, never saying another word.

 

\--

 

I have nightmares for weeks. I hate him for making me lose control like that. I know he didn't know about it, but couldn’t he figure out on his own that there was a reason why I needed so much control? Did he think it was a game? Well, I suppose it was. But the rules were set a particular way for a reason. Only sex, me in charge. 

Damn him for changing the rules.

 

\--

 

I'm at the prime minister's son's wedding. I hate weddings. They're so fake. They didn't used to be like this. People used to know that they were mergers, political or business. There was no misunderstanding about love. Love. _Brown hair, and eyes in pain._ Love is nothing, it doesn't exist. _A head thrown back as a body sinks onto my cock._ I bite my lip, tasting blood. 

Love. The word has no meaning.

 

\--

 

I walk around more than I used to. I need to stay in shape, and I like to keep track of what's happening on my home turf. Every so often I see a brown head and my heart beats a little faster, so I practice being cold. I surround myself with wood and leather at home, preparing. The sight of brown eventually freezes my heart. It works. The first time I see him, I'm able to look right through him, as if he's not there, as if I don't see his hurt. It doesn't bother me in the least. 

I go home and I drink my brown liquor in my brown chair.

 

\--

 

I've hired a new assistant. He keeps up on current events for me. He reads the magazines and newspapers, summarizing articles that have information I need to hear. It's much more efficient this way, so I don't have to wade through the dreck and the ads and the photos.

 

\--

 

I've decided that the mirrors in my apartment are making me vain, so I've had them all removed. They were taking up too much time. I was either lost in them or trying to avoid them. There's no point in looking at myself. I know I always look good.

 

\--

 

I had the nightmares again last night. It's been two years. Pushing him away hasn't stopped me from hearing his words at all. It's made it worse, because the words I hear are always from that last day. How he loved me. How he saw good in me. 

That last one I can't believe. Maybe he'd fooled himself about love, but where did he see good? I suppose I am loyal. But the other things.... Did I try to help him? I can't remember. That day in the shower, he reminded me of myself. I knew that the only way he could survive a rape was to fight and to hate, so I helped him. Was that good of me? It might have been. 

I don't really know what good is.

 

\--

 

My assistant's brother was shot today in a gang war. He started to run out of the office to go after the killers but I wouldn't let him. I almost kissed him, but his hair wasn't the right color. His parents came to me the next day and thanked me for stopping him. They told me I was a good man. _I know you did it to protect me..._

Who am I protecting now?

 

\--

 

Tonight my employees held a birthday party for me at Club Sion. They do this every year, wasting their money on gifts I don't need. It's a way to show loyalty of course, and they've gone to some trouble, so I allow it. I don't really need another reminder about being a year older. There's one present left on the table that no one claims is from them. I pick it up with a shaking hand. I try to throw it away. I try. I cannot. I put it in my pocket.

When I get home I set it on my nightstand, unopened. It sits there, just like that, for weeks. I look at it first thing after I wake up, and last thing before I go to sleep.

I finally work up the courage to open it one night. It's from an old employee who dropped it off before the party. I don't know what I expected. I stare at it until it begins to blur. I drop it in the trash and go wash my face.

 

\--

 

I went out to dinner with my assistant tonight. He asked me out this afternoon. His eyes and hair are black. He's nice enough, though a little bland. There's cunning in his eyes, reminding me of myself. We fuck, but he has no fire in him. It's no fun without some fire.

 

\--

 

I start seeing other men. It's been a while, but I know I still have what it takes. I'll never lose that. I please them, every time. And some of them please me too. But I never really feel satisfied.

There's one, he's better than the others. It's not because he has brown hair and eyes. He just seems more lively. We spend more time together, he and I, not fucking, but doing things. I've never gone places just to enjoy them, but I think I might like it. Yesterday we went to the museum for an exhibit he wanted to see. 

We didn't look at the gallery of photographs.

 

\--

 

Today Katsuhiro told me he loved me. For some reason it didn't bother me in the least. I couldn't give him my love. He understood that, though he doesn't understand why. He doesn't understand that I don't have it anymore. That someone else is holding it for me. For some reason, that thought comforts me more that it scares me.

 

\--

 

I have another boy now. He wanted to take me someplace special, so he brought me here, to this ice cream parlor. I won't go in. He looks at me, and decides not to argue. He goes in and brings out some desserts. He tells me mine is called a turtle sundae. My hand crushes the container. The contents run all over my hand. My hand. It's shaking and I bring it to my lips, and I taste him. I taste Akihito. Oh fuck. I need to leave this place. I turn and leave the boy standing there, no longer remembering his name or why I'm with him.

 

\--

 

How many does this make? For some reason I seem to wear them out. This one loves me too. He has the same hair and eyes as the last few. I like it when they tell me they love me now. But if I wait for it to fill me back up it never does. The holes inside me remain empty. It's not their fault. They're just copies.

I think maybe I should call him. I have my people find his new number and address, find out what he's been doing. I take it home and read it. He's changed. He doesn't sound like the right person. Maybe it's because he's carrying part of me. Maybe I hurt him by putting it there. It would be enough to make anyone sick. For the first time in years, I feel guilty.

I put the file away, and decide not to trouble him.

 

\--

 

Another month, another lover. This one likes the theatre. I don't think this will last out the week. Tonight we're leaving some avant-garde piece early. He jokes about how it sucked and I laugh. I feel eyes upon me and look up. He's there, not ten feet away. He's there and he's crying. He's crying because of me. I can't run away from this. It's my fault. I tell the other boy to go home.

I walk up and fold him in my arms. Finally, someone fits there. He cries upon my chest. Those tears, they seep into my thirsty body. I tell him how I haven't been able to stop hearing his words, how they've never left me in peace. I tell him how I had hated him for it at first, but the words just kept eating away at me, eating away at the damaged parts, leaving spaces, but clean ones. I tell him how I'd looked for new ways to fill those spaces, but all I found were cheap copies, and they didn't do. That only he would do.

I wipe the tears from his eyes, those precious tears, and he stares at me like he doesn't believe me. Does that surprise me? No, I suppose not. But it hurts. It's a hurt only he can give me, because he has my heart. I kiss him, remembering our last kiss, with the ice cream. I lick his lips, looking for that flavor, but that makes him pull away. He's alarmed and he breaks free. He's terrified of me. He runs.

This can't be happening. Not when I've found him. But he's leaving me, the way I left him. _No.... Don't go..... Akihito...._ I stand and stare after him, breathing heavily, unable to move. I thought I'd known punishment before. But that was only a shadow compared to this.

No. I'm Asami Ryuichi. I will not accept this. He doesn't understand. I'll make him understand. 

The ice cream. It was his fantasy. Me and the ice cream. Such a harmless thing and I wouldn't give it to him before. I was such a fool. I get in the car and drive to his apartment, making a stop along the way.

 

\--

 

I sit in his kitchen, smoking a cigarette, waiting for him to get home. I keep tapping it into a glass to make sure no ashes fall on his table. I hear the door and I stand, because I know he'll try to bolt. And he does, but I grab him and bring him back to the table, and make him sit. I put a bowl in front of him, then put the ice cream and toppings in. I sit by him and take a spoon, and offer him some. He eats it slowly, eyes on me. I don't think he understands.

I take a spoonful and put it into my mouth. I hate sweets. This is the only dessert I'll ever be able to enjoy. Can he see that? Does he understand why? I lean forward and kiss him, sharing it, letting him see what this ice cream means, that it's a bond between us, a gift. It's changed things.

I pull back and look at him. He's starting to get it. I hand him the spoon, the spoon and everything else. He looks at it, then up at me. He begins crying. He understands. My Akihito. He understands now. I pick him up and hold him in my lap. He fits perfectly there too, his head tucked under my chin. I tease him about his tears, but just hold him. He's exhausted by all this. I can tell. His crying tapers off and he falls asleep. 

I carry him to the bed and lay him down upon it, then remove his clothes and put the covers over him. Why does it feel so right to be with him? I still don't understand these things. I just know that it's so. I take off my clothes and get under the covers with him, pulling him into the curve of my body. No matter how I hold him, it's still a perfect fit. He belongs with me. I belong with him. I fall asleep holding him.

The next morning I wake up to find him watching me. He moves forward into a kiss, and the feelings start to come back. Only this time they're not the bad ones, just the good ones from that last time, when he made love to me. Maybe it's because this time I know it's the first, not the last. We're beginning something, not ending it. And when I cum I don't empty myself, but am filled.

The bad feelings are still there. I know it. I've started to talk about them a little. He's surprised by what I say, and whenever I speak of it he gives me a gift of tears. The feelings aren't so frightening now that I have someone to share them with. My Akihito. Like my old bear, he holds my secrets. I couldn’t keep my bear safe, but I'll protect Akihito all my life.

I still can't say I love him, though someday I probably will. But I think I know what love is now. It's what I see in his eyes when I come home each night, and it makes me melt every time. 

 

~end~


End file.
